For answer he but hugged me the harder, and gave an excited little laugh that was near to tears. That was enough for me. Indeed, I was not so far from tears. I looked up at Eve, who had followed close, and tears stood in her eyes, but she was smiling. Oh, such a smile! A smile that belongs to wives and mothers—of a certain kind. And, seeing her, I gave thanks. But that is nothing new that I give thanks for that, for I have done the same many times a day for many years.
Then Old Goodwin came up behind Eve.
"If you and Pukkie can spare the time," he said to me, "I should be glad to have you ride home with me—you and Eve. I have something to show you."
Pukkie went somewhat eagerly, and Eve and I, having devoted ourselves to following our son about, went after, not so eagerly. And Old Goodwin took us down to his boathouse, which is at the head of his stone pier and gives upon his artificial harbor, and out of the car and into the boathouse.
"Grandfather," said Pukkie, trying in vain to keep all signs of excitement out of his voice, "is it my dory that we're going to see? Is it?"
Old Goodwin smiled to himself. "Well, no, Pukkie. It isn't your dory. I didn't manage that. But it's something of that nature."
"Oh," said Pukkie in low tones of disappointment, "I didn't know but—" Old Goodwin had opened the door at the other side. "Oh! What's that?"
Made fast to the stage there lay a perfect little sloop about twenty feet long which seemed to be an exact reproduction in miniature of a large boat. Every sail was there which the large boats carried, every rope and block and stay, although they had drawn the line at a separate topmast. I realized at a glance that there were too many ropes and blocks and stays for her size. It would take more of a crew to handle her easily than she could carry.
But Pukkie realized nothing of the kind. He ran toward her, and stood beside her, touching with a fearful hand her smooth deck, and the pretty blocks and cleats of shining brass, and smiling.